Suicide Forest (10 page)

Over the next few days I struck up
conversation with Mel whenever an opportunity presented itself,
though this proved difficult because as a new teacher she was busy
learning the textbooks, the system, and so forth. Elise could see
the effort I was making, and two things happened. First, she
stopped flirting with me, which had been going on pretty much
nonstop since we met. Second, she became frosty toward Mel, so much
so they rarely talked in the two years before Elise eventually
returned to Australia—which was the reason Mel never quite fit into
our group.

“She was a bitch,” Mel said.

“You were a bitch,” I said.

“Me?”

“Remember the first time I asked you out for
a drink? When we were taking the train home from work?”

“So?”

“Do you recall what you said?”

“I didn’t have an umbrella.”

“What the hell did that mean?”

“It was raining.”

“I wasn’t going to take you on a
picnic.”

“I don’t know. I panicked. It was my first
week at work. I didn’t want to seem like…that kind of girl.”

“I thought you had a boyfriend.”

“I did. Sort of. Like you.”

“Me?”

“You had a girlfriend. Shelly
MacDonald.”

I was surprised Mel knew Shelly’s surname. I
didn’t think I’d ever told her. “We were broken up,” I said.

“Hmmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

We fell silent again. I played over what
we’d just spoken of, that first year in Japan when the country was
still new to me. I imagined myself reminiscing about stuff like
this—Japan stuff—at a dinner party in Madison in twenty years’
time. Would my friends back home care? Would they be able to
relate? If Mel and I ever broke up, would all these memories cease
to mean anything, cease to be? If a tree falls in the forest…

“Do you remember Degawa?” Mel asked
abruptly.

“Degawa…?” I said, as if speaking the name
would elicit a memory.

“He was one of the first students I taught.
I used to tell you about him. He bought me the stereo system.”

Before we moved into the guesthouse near
Shinagawa together, Mel’s apartment building had been adjacent to a
used electronics store called Hard Off. She’d been searching for a
cheap stereo system there one day when she bumped into Degawa. He
helped her pick out a Panasonic setup with massive speakers and
insisted he pay for it. She objected, of course, but he wouldn’t
take no for an answer. Then, during one of their classes later in
the week, he asked her to join him for dinner. He assured her he
only wanted to practice his English.

I cautioned Mel against taking up his offer.
He was a fifty-year-old man. He was divorced. She was a young
blonde American girl. Nevertheless, she always takes people at face
value. She looks for the good, not the bad. This was likely why she
told him she’d join him—with the provision her roommate, an Irish
girl, come as well.

Apparently Degawa had been the perfect
gentleman, genuinely interested in improving his English. Come to
think of it, I didn’t hear much about him after that dinner.

“What about him?” I asked idly.

Mel hesitated. Then she said, “He killed
himself.”

I propped myself up on my elbow, stared at
her. “When?”

“Couple years ago.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

“You never liked him—”

“That’s not true.”

“You thought he was an old pervert.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.”

“Who told you he killed himself?”

“One of the other students. They all
knew.”

“No one informed me.”

She shrugged. “I knew him better.”

“How did he do it?”

“He hanged himself.”

I stiffened. “Don’t tell me he did it
here?”

Mel shook her head. “In his apartment. He
wasn’t discovered for a week. Nobody bothered to check on him.”

“Why…?”

“I don’t know. He was lonely probably.
Anyway, seeing the grave, it made me think of him.”

I wanted to say something about Yumi right
then, about the ritual she’d performed before killing herself.
Instead I said, “Are you okay being here?”

“Camping in the forest?”

I nodded.

“It’s just one night.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yes.” She paused, then asked, “Are
you?”

I was about to tell her I was fine, but
there was something in her question, a subtext, and it took me a
moment to realize what it was. “You mean because of Gary?”

“Seeing the grave…”

“It’s not the same.”

“It’s depressing here.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re sure?”

I didn’t know. But I didn’t want to talk
about Gary. I never talked about Gary to anyone. At least, not in
any real depth. Even after spending four years with me, all Mel
knew was that he was my older brother, he was a hockey player, and
he was shot. That’s how I wanted to keep it.

“Yeah, Mel,” I said. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

I lay back down and tried to picture
Degawa’s face, but it stubbornly refused to reveal itself. All I
could remember about him was his van. It was compact, like Honda’s,
a Mitsubishi maybe, with curtains covering the side and back
windows. He’d honked at Mel and me one day while we were walking
home from work together. Mel had said, “That’s Degawa.” And I had
replied, “The pervert?”

A loud peal of thunder sounded overhead,
followed by another, both still distant but closer than I would
have liked.

“Guess it might rain after all,” I said.

Mel sighed. “And I was having such a lovely
day.”

I
didn’t know who
instigated it—Mel rolling against me, me placing a hand on her
backside—but soon we were half naked, making love in Suicide
Forest. It was risky, considering Tomo and Neil could have come
back at any moment, but I didn’t care, and I guess Mel didn’t
either. Given the dismal environment, and the hard ground, I was
surprised the sex had gone off without a hitch. Well, almost.
Halfway through Mel complained about a piece of bark rubbing
against her back. We moved, but then it was a stick. Then something
else. Regardless, I didn’t have any regrets, and I didn’t think Mel
did either.

I began to drift into a light afternoon
siesta when Mel, lying next to me, jerked into a sitting position,
crying out.

I sat up immediately. “What’s wrong?” I
asked.

She was taking deep breaths, her hand
against her chest.

“Mel?” I pressed, getting worried.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. A
dream.”

“More like a nightmare. You’re wired. What
was it about?”

“I fell down that crater again. Actually,
you pushed me.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. Just a dream
thing. I don’t think you meant to. But I didn’t land on the ledge
this time. I kept falling and falling and splashed into a huge,
cold lake. It was completely dark. And for some reason I couldn’t
swim. I started sinking. There was something in the water with me.”
She shivered. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what it was. It kept
brushing against my legs.”

“Did you get out?”

“I was drowning. I could see you and John
looking down into the hole. I was trying to yell, but water filled
my mouth. You guys didn’t do anything. You were just watching. Then
I sank to the bottom of the lake—and woke up.” She pulled her knees
to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She turned her face
away from me.

“Hey,” I said, “it was just a dream.”

She looked at me again, and I saw tears in
her eyes.

“What if back then, for real, I missed that
ledge?”

“I told you…it wasn’t that deep.”

“I could have died.”

“You wouldn’t have died.”

“I could have. It was a matter of
inches.”

“Yeah, and you could have walked straight
past the hole without stepping in it. Everything in life is a
matter of inches. Jaywalking across the street is a matter of
inches. Don’t think about it.” I wiped away one of her tears with
my finger. “Okay?”

She nodded.

In the distance I heard John Scott’s voice.
A few moments later I saw him and Ben and Nina moving through the
vegetation, following the ribbon, toward the gravesite. Ben noticed
the scattered belongings first and cried out excitedly. They began
whispering in hushed, reverent tones. I couldn’t hear what they
were saying.

Mel rubbed her eyes and called to them.

“Mel!” John Scott said. He came over and
crouched in front of her. “Holy shit, Mel. We passed that hole you
fell in. It went to fucking China.” He took her hands and examined
them. “You don’t have any cuts or anything?”

I almost told him to stop touching my
girlfriend, but I held my tongue.

“Ethan said it wasn’t very deep—”

John Scott stared at me like I was insane.
“Do you need glasses, dude? There was no bottom.”

Mel frowned. “No bottom?”

I willed him to shut up.

“Even with the flashlight,” he went on, “we
saw zip. It just kept going and going. I dropped a rock but didn’t
hear it land.”

Mel turned on me. “You said—”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter,” John Scott told
her. “Neil saved your ass. You’re all good now.”

I glared at him. Neil? Just Neil? I recalled
Mel explaining to him over the phone how we’d used Neil’s guy
ropes, but he obviously knew Tomo and I were there as well. Was he
purposely trying to piss me off?

“Ethan and Tomo helped too,” Mel said.

John Scott nodded, but it didn’t seem like
he was listening. He hooked his thumb toward the grave. “How cool
is this shit? And it was a chick. Where’s Tomo and Neil?”

“They went for a walk,” Mel said.

“Looking for the body?”

“They’re right over there.”

She pointed past us to where Tomo and Neil
were emerging from the trees. John Scott strode over to them and
began backslapping and congratulating and high fiving.

I gritted my teeth.

Why did I care?

Then I heard him asking about a body, saw
them shaking their heads. Nevertheless, Tomo started talking
excitedly about something. From what I could make out it sounded as
if he’d found several more ribbons. Ben and Nina went to them.

“Come on,” Mel said to me, getting up and
going over.

“Coming,” I said.

Tomo went on about his discovery, then John
Scott started talking about the dog kennel, holding everyone’s
interest. Deciding I had brooded long enough, I got up and joined
them.

“Tomo and Neil found another ribbon,” Mel
said, filling me in.

“Ribbon
and
string,” Tomo said.

“Did you follow them?”

“We followed the ribbon to the string,” Neil
said, “then we came back.”

John Scott asked, “So who’s up for checking
them out?”

“Nina and I will continue,” Ben said.
“Definitely.”

“I’ve had my adventure,” Neil said. “I
reckon I’ll wait here.”

“But I forget way,” Tomo said.

“Bugger off, Tomo,” Neil retorted.

“It’s true.”

“We need you, dude,” John Scott told Neil,
giving him a shit-eating grin and patting him heartily on the
shoulder. “Mel?”

“We agreed only one more hour,” she stated.
“I—I think I want to leave.”

“The forest?” John Scott said, surprised.
“You can’t. You’ll never make it all the way out before it gets
dark.”

“Why don’t we just stay here then?”

“Beside that gravesite? You want to sleep
next to that?”

Mel frowned.

“Listen,” John Scott added, seeing he’d
scored a point, “it’s not like we can get lost. We simply stick to
the ribbon and the string.”

“We need to find firewood if we want a
fire.”

“We’ll collect it on the way.”

Mel shook her head, biting her lower lip.
She was clearly distressed. The buzz from escaping the crevice had
long since dissipated, and it seemed the experience had shaken her
more than I’d suspected. Once again, I regretted bringing her out
here. It had been selfish of me. I’d been focused only on what I’d
wanted.

“I’ll head back with you, Mel,” I said,
taking her hand. “We’ll get a room somewhere—”

“Didn’t you hear me?” John Scott said.
“You’re not getting out before dark.”

“We’ll manage.”

“And fall in another fucking hole—”

“Why don’t you fuck off—”

“Stop it!” Mel shouted. “You two—stop
fighting!” She exhaled loudly. “We’re not leaving. Not in the dark.
And we’re not staying here either. Not by that grave. So we’ll go a
little farther. Then we’ll make camp. We’ll make a fire, it will be
fine.”

John Scott issued another one of those
stupid army hooahs.

And that, it seemed, was that.

Convenience
stores
in Japan offered much healthier and fresher food choices in
comparison to their counterparts in other countries, especially the
US. I thought this once again as I watched everyone chow down on
what they’d bought earlier at the train station. Mel had a bowl of
thick wheat noodles; Neil, a rectangular tray of chilled buckwheat
noodles served in a soy-based broth; John Scott, sushi and a salad.
Tomo, Ben, and Nina each had a bento box. And I’d opted for a
single
onigiri
, a triangle-shaped rice ball wrapped in
seaweed. I was hoping I’d chosen one filled with tuna fish or
salmon, but because I couldn’t read the kanji on the plastic
packaging, I’d inadvertently ended up with
umeboshi
, a type
of pickled plum. It wasn’t very appetizing.

“I don’t get it,” John Scott said with a
philosophical look on his face as he poked at his salad. “Suicide,
you know.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked.

“Why people kill themselves. Can life really
get that bad you want to blow your brains out? I mean, someone is
always going to have it worse than you. You think you have it bad
because you can’t pay your mortgage? Well, a pal of mine lost both
his legs in a training accident, and he’s one of the most go-happy
motherfuckers I know.”